


The Future

by icylook



Series: Vergil Surana [22]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icylook/pseuds/icylook
Summary: “Isn’t it time for our half a year reunion? I thought I’ll step by.” He aims for light tone, he really does, but he can’t say he doesn’t feel a prickle of hurt upon being welcomed so cooly, if not rudely.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Surana, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden
Series: Vergil Surana [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615327
Kudos: 13





	The Future

**Author's Note:**

> For ZevWarden Week 2020 on tumblr, prompt fill for Day 7: The Future °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

“I said  _ no one, _ Nathaniel, is it so hard to-” the growl cuts off when their eyes meet, Vergil glancing at him before he turns sharply to stare at clutter on his desk, shoulders hunched up. He has to double take to make sure he sees right and his gaze lingers on Vergil’s bare nape, strands of  _ short _ black hair curling up in every direction. 

Messy. 

It looks messy. Not something he associated with his lover during all this years, always careful to maintain the appearances, always fussy about looks and _ impressions. _

“What are you doing here.”

Brittle tone of the question shakes him from his shocked silence, welcome smile slipped long ago from his lips upon entering the stuffy room. Not a window opened, heavy curtains closed, candles and magical wisps burning despite it being the middle of the day.

There are many things he’d like to ask at once,  _ What happened to you? Who hurt you? Why are not glad to see me?  _ and he chooses none of them, instead slowly stepping closer, noticing how the line of Vergil’s spine tenses even further.

“I asked-”

“Isn’t it time for our  _ half a year _ reunion? I thought I’ll step by.” He aims for light tone, he really does, but he can’t say he doesn’t feel a prickle of hurt upon being welcomed so cooly, if not rudely. Worry starts to take its roots in his chest, because he didn’t expect  _ that, _ when Nathaniel said Vergil isn’t in good shape at the moment and didn’t elaborate. 

_ Something, something, expedition gone wrong. _

Zevran stops near and just looks at him. Vergil’s fist curls around the paper in his hand as his gaze snaps at him.

The side of his face is bruised, clean stitches holding a short line of mended injury on his cheekbone. Deep shadows rest under his dulled eyes and he seems so fragile at the moment. Yet still, his eyes have this wary gleam of cornered animal that would bite first, even if it’s the last thing it’d do. 

_ Something _ apparently happened, something so serious that changed Vergil into battered and exhausted shadow of himself _.  _ But he’s here now and he’ll be damned, if he wouldn’t get into the bottom of this. Clothes are hanging on his frame and he can’t remember when he seemed so thin,  _ never,  _ for as long he knows him. Zevran saw Vergil close to like this once, when he was recovering from the smite during Blight, like he could shatter at littlest of pushes. Though, it wasn’t so bad back then.

He’s slow, both palms open as he’s approaching and Vergil’s eyes are wary, but he keeps still. Doesn’t lean away from Zevran’s touch upon his chin, but he notices his throat bob with heavy swallow. Vergil’s eyes are narrowed, but his gaze is steady and it flicks to Zevran’s lips when he starts talking, tone hushed.

“Aren’t you even a bit pleased seeing me? I brought gifts. Some of them should be opened sooner than later,” he says, tempting, fingers cupping Vergil’s jaw in light hold. A heartbeat later Vergil sighs softly and leans into his touch, half sneer curling his lip smoothing down, when he moves closer. One of his hands reach for Zevran’s belt and Zevran sneaks his own around Vergil’s waist, palm splayed at the small of his back, craving the feeling of firmness and warmth of Vergil’s body. The skin of his face is cold under his touch, and this close he sees that the lone strand of silver in his hair thickened.

He breathes deeply when their foreheads touch, Vergil’s fingers clawing at bare skin of his arm in iron hold. Light tremors keep coursing his body, muscles shifting involuntary under Zevran’s touch and he runs his hand up and down Vergil’s back. Wishing to soothe, ignoring tightening of his own throat.

“Where?” Zevran’s thumb lightly sweeps tender skin under his injury.

“Amgarrak,” he rasps, eyes closing with a shaky breath and he shifts in his embrace, hiding his face in Zevran’s neck. Zevran’s arms go around his back, one hand resting at Vergil’s bare nape, short hair tickling his fingers.

They stay like this for few moments, Vergil’s breath hot on his skin, Zevran murmuring soft nothings switching to Antivan when he notices it relaxes Vergil further. He’s leaning on him more heavily with each slowly passing minute, oddly silent and pliant and Zevran tries to overcome sudden wave of protectiveness mixed with dread. __

_ I was so close to losing him and didn’t even know it. _

They sit down and he tells him about the thaig, the fade traps, pieces of journals of discoveries no one should ever try to replicate and Zevran’s blood turns cold at the sparse description of creature Vergil was forced to battle. Then, Vergil’s quiet for some time, vacantly staring at hands in his lap. Zevran shifts closer and then he starts like woken up from a dream, and he sees him briefly biting at the inside of his cheek.

“I don’t remember much of my escape,” he rubs one arm still not looking at him, “only darkness, pain and  _ fear. _ ” 

“I’ve never been  _ so afraid _ in all my life.” Zevran sees the truth in his eyes when Vergil’s looking at him, amber eyes shining with feverish gleam of unshed _ tears. “ _ It’s not… I don’t want to repeat it, ever.” Teeth worry at his lip so hard Zevran’s sure he’ll break the skin, but he relents when his hand finds his and squeezes, Vergil’s fingers cold, but strong.

Later, Zevran discards his weapons and armor, briefly freshening up. Vergil drinks some smelly potion and shortly after falls asleep, blanket over his body, his face nearly squashed in Zevran’s stomach, curled on his side with arm wrapped around him. Other is tucked under his chin, clinging to the fabric of his shirt. Zevran’s heart tugs at the sight of Vergil’s softened features, memory of his slurred words when potion kicked in,  _ “I hope you’re not another Fade dream.” _

He gently runs his fingers through short black strands, the texture strangely coarse and so different from usual silky feel of it.

Something moves on the windowsill, disturbing the curtain and Zevran tenses. Then, his shoulders relax, the hold on pommel of dagger on nightstand slipping, when small pale head with two huge ears appears. Large green eyes seem to glow in darkened room and with a graceful jump she’s on the floor, little feet padding silently to where they’re sitting. Anastasia hops on bed, carefully picking her way up Zevran’s legs, then suddenly two of her feet are on his chest and a smile splits his face when she headbutts his cheek, nuzzling. Loud rattling purr escapes her chest and Zevran coos at her quietly, petting her back and scratching under her chin. He eyes the little black sweater with a short cape she’s wearing, no doubt to keep her warm. Vergil’s work for sure, if golden trim of cape wouldn’t be enough of indication. Anastasia wiggles in between Zevran’s body and Vergil’s chest and stays there, vivid green eyes half lidded. She didn’t let go of the sound, sending little vibrations under Zevran’s hand and he pets her bald head with the same rhythm he keeps running his fingers through Vergil’s curls.

And when he focuses on the warmth under his hands and Vergil’s sleeping body slotted to his own, the knot in his chest unfolds a little. Zevran leans his head back on the headboard with a deep sigh. He has a lot thinking to do and even more to  _ do _ after Vergil wakes up.


End file.
